


Should've Known

by AvidWritesFics



Category: BBS - Fandom, Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Brawling, Broken Bones, Drabble, Harpy! Evan, I Tried, M/M, Raccoon! Jonathan, a lot of sadness, experiment au, injuries, not sorry, sorry - Freeform, winged! Evan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:39:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidWritesFics/pseuds/AvidWritesFics
Summary: This was a quick drabble for a discord challenge! This will be the first fic/drabble that I will be posting here, and I hope to make more :D





	Should've Known

Brock should have known, he really should have and he beat himself up for it. After all, he was as a very observant person, he knew that, for a fact, his friends and family teased him for it. He was able to discern different body languages with such ease and a single glance like it was nothing to him. Pure talent some would say.

A certain twitch of a finger would go unnoticed under untalented eyes, but it all translated to Brock as a sign of mischief or the beginnings of a panic attack. A simple blink and he would know if the person was lying and no excuse would be able hide it under his glare. His observant nature gave him the title as the mom friend of the group in their little apartment. He was constantly teased and prodded because of it, but he willingly accepted the responsibility with no complaints. Coincidentally, he was the type of friend that always ensured everyone’s well being physically, mentally, and emotionally no matter what and yet, only now when everything was too late- eight years too late, did he finally realized that staying quiet about Evan was the wrong option.

Why hadn’t he said anything?

The first time he met him, he was a figure in a doorway, buried in a red, black, and white jacket to thin for the December winter, a grey toque, and a vivid orange crochet scarf that made him stand out in the dark of the night like a firefly in a dark room. A sling bag slung snug on his shoulder, resting at his hip was topped with snow like cake frosting, along with his head and shoulders from standing in the assault of falling snowflakes for a long period of time. He remembered those brown eyes, filled with hope yet scared for some reason, shivering blue lips and pale face. He remembered the guilt that overcame him when he saw the poor soul shivering in the winter. How long had he waited out there? He forgot about the call from earlier about his new roommate who was coming in a few hours. He mentally slapped himself right there and then in the doorway before hurriedly rushing the shivering man in with an absurd amount of apologies spilling from his lips.

Brock remembered in the seconds of meeting his new roommate and learning his name, he immediately made it his life’s mission to integrate Evan into their little family and it led to minutes of introduction, hours of learning about each together, days of talking and chatting, weeks of fun events and crazy not-so-mature shenanigans, months of intimacy and gathering courage, and five years to finally get the Asian man a bouquet of flowers and a love card on a valentine night to be his lover. And at that night, he wanted to forget five years of suspicions he had of the lovely man.

Brock observed Evan’s interactions with the others over the years of his residence and the contrast between them was more obvious than a sore thumb. Everyone else was loud, Tyler, Ryan, Luke, Brian, Craig- they were all loud and outgoing and Evan was anything but either. Sure he had his loud and childish moments, pissing people off, making others nearly wet themselves from laughing, but there were some moments that only Brock noticed.

Brock quietly noted on several occasions when nervousness would lace his lips or his volume would slowly decrease as seconds went by. The once lively boy would become silent like a shadow among his friends. His lips would press thin, his eyes would avert to the floor like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. The emotion on his face was obvious with guilt and uncertainty, sometimes it was unreadable even for Brock. At first, he was confused and brushed it off as nothing. It was understandable for him to act that way. He knew Evan was a shy person from the beginning, backing away when the conversations get loud and started vibrate with energy, or when things turn to worse(in Evan’s case) as becomes the center of attention. Brock had comforted him through those times, doing everything to get the former out his situation or a simple escort away from the group and a peck on the forehead. He started having his suspicions when his quiet episodes only happened when certain topics were being discussed. The way that Evan looked scared and pale, sweat beading at his temples, but he constantly shrugged it off and tried his best to convince himself that Evan was just shy, he wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t be.

But earlier that morning, Evan was uncharacteristically cold and quiet, his face showed signs of hostility and plainly ignored his friends, including his own boyfriend. Finally, Brock had confronted him about it. He was worried, maybe something was wrong, but the man simply glared at him and let out words that burnt like hot iron in very being and it hurt him beyond comprehension, tears fell from his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. The others tried to confront the man and scold him, but he replied with the same cold tone with hurtful words. There was no remorse in his eyes that day. He was a completely different person and it scared Brock. His sudden hostility started a brawl between him and Tyler. It took a lot of effort to take a giant of a man off the smaller one who at that point had a bruised eye and a busted lip, but his expression remained the same, hostile and cold like the fight never happened and there was no pain that he was receiving from his injuries.

Evan left the apartment without batting an eye to any of them, marching off to god knows where until the sun drifted down the horizon.

Tears pricked Brock’s eyes, his mouth twisting into a tight frown as he struggled to keep in a sob. His pained labored lungs quivered with sadness, the emotion overwhelming all his senses, he finally understood. Memories started flooding back into his brain, stirring emotions in his heart. He remembered the little things, how Evan hated hugs never let anyone sneak up behind him, it was the only time he was overprotective of himself. Some nights he would disappear in the middle of the night instead of laying in bed with Brock as the moon rose with the stars, he’d blink a few times and notice the coldness of the bed, he always thought that his lover went out for fresh air or a drink of water. He remembered the way he smiled a false smile, teeth gleaming white, dimples dotting his cheeks. His eyes would crinkle at the sides along with his loud pure joyful laughter. Yet there was a darkness in there that never seemed to go away, a facade with a sort of sadness that he never understood and he chose to ignore it. He remembered all the pool parties that Evan declined, claiming he didn’t know how to swim and refused lessons that his friends offered. Brock was sadly surprised when he realized that he had never seen Evan without a shirt in the past three years of their relationship. He almost bitterly laughed at that. All because he was one of those things. He was an avian. He had wings.

He watched Evan, large brown wings stretched out in the night, outlined with the soft light of the moon. His eyes were a menacing yellow glowing in the night. One still swollen and engulfed by a bruised from the fight with Tyler earlier. Evan twisted around to face his next opponent who was coming up behind him with a large dagger in his hand. Evan’s feathers fluttered gracefully with the wind as he dodged the attack and winded up his arm to strike his offender.

Brock wondered why Evan hadn’t said anything. Did Evan not trust them? After 8 years of knowing each other, practically being family, Evan had kept it from them, he remembered when Evan would became hostile to them when someone tried to at his past or how he would try to change the subject immediately. After sharing secrets and giving his whole heart to Evan, he felt betrayed. The pain in his heart was more overwhelming than his bruised ribs and aching legs.

“Run!” Evan screamed into the night, his voice hoarse and sounding desperate, his eyes locked on them, worried and scared like his first time meeting Brock on that cold winter night, “Run and don’t look back! You need to get out of here!”

A hand grasped his arm and pulled. He looked up and saw Brian. A trail dried blood stuck on the side of his face, dirt and grime smudged on clothes. His good eye was wide with adrenaline, but the other was closed tightly, the skin around the area down to his left cheek was missing and was bleeding slowly, the trail of blood soaking his white shirt.

Evan was suddenly downed, a knife dug into his side. A pained scream echoed into the night. His large wings dragged on the dirt as he collapsed, like the heavy guilt he carried for eight years. He tried to crawl away from a group of men that closed in on him from behind, guns in their hand and gadgets that glowed and made noises that seemed to be from another dimension. The avian thrashed and gave a fight, throwing fists and kicks as two men grabbed both his arms and forced his knees to kiss the ground.

Brock refused to move, his heart pulling him to Evan. He wanted to save him, no matter the conflicting pain in his heart. Brock wanted to get to him, he wanted to save Evan, drag him out of the battlefield like he always had when he sensed the first signs of discomfort from Evan. If it were only that simple like his little kisses on the temple.

“Good Evening, Vanoss, great to see you again,” a man in a white suit crouched to Evan’s eye level, a thumb caressing his cheek. “How I missed you, little owl. Especially Delirious, he lived up to his code name after you disappeared eight years ago. How ironic is that, eh? Do you know what happened to him six years later after you went MIA?” The white suit’s smile was wicked, the skin on his face folding with age, eyes wide with the lack of sanity.

An ugly cackle vibrated in his throat as he slid his fat thumb across his neck. “He had to be put down, you know. The damn raccoon missed you so much that he was wreaking havoc, destroying equipment, and killing the scientists. You abandoned him, Vanoss. Oh, if you’d only seen the sadness in his eyes, the tears, the screams he made every single night. They were very very irritating. His longing for you interfered with his training! Now look at what you’ve done! You got him killed!”

Evan spat at the man’s face, a trail of blood stained spit running down his old wrinkled face. The man’s face morphed into a look of pure fury, face turning red with burning anger. “Oh, Vanoss,” the old man’s voice dropped several octaves lower, dripping with venom, “you should be more careful with the choices you make or all your efforts would be put to waste,

I am really proud of you Vanoss,” the man in the white suit seemed to have changed personalities. Now he wore a wide smile, pearly whites flashing in the darkness of the night, “thank you so much for finding such perfect toys for me.”

Brock’s wide eyes met the old man’s crazed orbs, a devil’s smile formed on his olden face.

With a nod of the old man’s head, Evan screamed with protest. He trashed and cried out, failing his wings wildly. His face was contorted into a pure look of fear.

Evan’s wings were grappled by his two captors. A loud sickening snap and a blood curdling scream echoed in the night, a scream that would haunt Brock for many nights and for the rest of his days until he dropped dead.

Brock watched as the avian’s wings fell limp to his sides, the poor man whimpering and hysterically sobbing as he continued to trash and scream and all he could do was stare at his loved one as the hand on his arm gave up. The screams of his friends slowly blurred in the background and the men in suits advanced towards them, guns pointed ready to capture.

Brock felt a sharp pain as a dart impaled him in his abdomen. The world started to go dark, and Evan was slowly being swallowed by the shadows, but before he lost grip of the consciousness, he heard the words of the evil man.

“...Cut off his wings at the lab. Remember to hang it on my wall next to the raccoon's pelt. It would look absolutely stunning!”


End file.
